The Doctor [25]
'is toes an' 'e soon falls off to sleep, the first 'e 'ad fer two days an' two nights. Poor dear! An 'e hain't ever done talkin' 'bout that very young lady an' the young doctor. An' a lovely pair they'd make, poor souls."
Margaret was conscious of a sudden pang at this grouping of names by Mrs. Fallows, but before she had time to analyse her feelings Iola reappeared.
"Well, good-bye," said Mrs. Fallows. "Yeh'll come agin w'en yeh git back. Good-bye, Miss," she said to Margaret. "It does seem to give me a fresh start w'en yeh put things to rights."
It was not till that night when she was in her own room preparing for bed that Margaret had time to analyse that sudden pang.
"It can't be that I am jealous," she said. "Of course, she is far more attractive than I am and why shouldn't everyone like her better?" She shook her fist at her reflection in the glass. "Do you know, you are as mean as you can be," she said viciously.
At that moment there came from Iola's room the sound of soft singing.
"It's no wonder," said Margaret as she listened to the exquisite sound, "it's no wonder that she could catch poor Ben and his mother with a voice like that. Yes, and--and the rest of them, too."
In a few minutes there was a tap at her door and Iola came in, her hair hanging like a dusky curtain about her face. Margaret uttered an involuntary exclamation of admiration.
"My! you are lovely!" she cried. "No wonder everyone loves you." With a sudden rush of penitent feeling for her "mean thoughts" she put her arms about Iola and kissed her warmly.
"Lovely! Nonsense!" she exclaimed, surprised at this display of affection so unusual for Margaret, "I am not half so lovely as you. When I see you at home here with all the things to worry you and the children to care for, I think you are just splendid and I feel myself cheap and worthless."
Margaret was conscious of a grateful glow in her heart.
"Indeed, my work doesn't amount to much, washing and dusting and mending. Anybody could do it. No one would ever notice me. Wherever you go the people just fall down and worship you." As she spoke she let down her hair preparatory to brushing it. It fell like a cloud, a golden-yellow cloud, about her face and shoulders. Iola looked critically at her.
"You are beautiful," she said slowly. "Your hair is lovely, and your big blue eyes, and your face has something, what is it? I can't tell you. But I believe people would come to you in difficulty. Yes. That's it," she continued, with her eyes on Margaret's face, "I can please them in a way. I can sing. Yes, I can sing. Some day I shall make people listen. But suppose I couldn't sing, suppose I lost my voice, people would forget me. They wouldn't forget you."
"What nonsense!" said Margaret brusquely. "It is not your voice alone; it is your beauty and something I cannot describe, something in your manner that is so fetching. At any rate, all the young fellows are daft about you."
"But the women don't care for me," said Iola, with the same slow, thoughtful voice. "If I wanted very much I believe I could make them. But they don't. There's Mrs. Boyle, she doesn't like me."
"Now you're talking nonsense," said Margaret impatiently. "You ought to have heard old Mrs. Fallows this evening."
"Now," continued Iola, ignoring her remark, "the women all like you, and the men, too, in a way."
"Don't talk nonsense," said Margaret impatiently. "When you're around the boys don't look at me."
"Yes, they do," said Iola, as if pondering the question. "Ben does."
Margaret laughed scornfully. "Ben likes my jelly."
"And Dick does," continued Iola, "and Barney." Here she shot a keen glance at Margaret's face. Margaret caught the glance, and, though enraged at herself, she could not prevent a warm flush spreading over her fair cheek and down her bare neck.
"Pshaw!" she cried angrily, "those boys! Of course, they like me. I've known them ever since I was a baby. Why, I used to go swimming with them in the pond. They think of me just like--well--
Margaret was conscious of a sudden pang at this grouping of names by Mrs. Fallows, but before she had time to analyse her feelings Iola reappeared.
"Well, good-bye," said Mrs. Fallows. "Yeh'll come agin w'en yeh git back. Good-bye, Miss," she said to Margaret. "It does seem to give me a fresh start w'en yeh put things to rights."
It was not till that night when she was in her own room preparing for bed that Margaret had time to analyse that sudden pang.
"It can't be that I am jealous," she said. "Of course, she is far more attractive than I am and why shouldn't everyone like her better?" She shook her fist at her reflection in the glass. "Do you know, you are as mean as you can be," she said viciously.
At that moment there came from Iola's room the sound of soft singing.
"It's no wonder," said Margaret as she listened to the exquisite sound, "it's no wonder that she could catch poor Ben and his mother with a voice like that. Yes, and--and the rest of them, too."
In a few minutes there was a tap at her door and Iola came in, her hair hanging like a dusky curtain about her face. Margaret uttered an involuntary exclamation of admiration.
"My! you are lovely!" she cried. "No wonder everyone loves you." With a sudden rush of penitent feeling for her "mean thoughts" she put her arms about Iola and kissed her warmly.
"Lovely! Nonsense!" she exclaimed, surprised at this display of affection so unusual for Margaret, "I am not half so lovely as you. When I see you at home here with all the things to worry you and the children to care for, I think you are just splendid and I feel myself cheap and worthless."
Margaret was conscious of a grateful glow in her heart.
"Indeed, my work doesn't amount to much, washing and dusting and mending. Anybody could do it. No one would ever notice me. Wherever you go the people just fall down and worship you." As she spoke she let down her hair preparatory to brushing it. It fell like a cloud, a golden-yellow cloud, about her face and shoulders. Iola looked critically at her.
"You are beautiful," she said slowly. "Your hair is lovely, and your big blue eyes, and your face has something, what is it? I can't tell you. But I believe people would come to you in difficulty. Yes. That's it," she continued, with her eyes on Margaret's face, "I can please them in a way. I can sing. Yes, I can sing. Some day I shall make people listen. But suppose I couldn't sing, suppose I lost my voice, people would forget me. They wouldn't forget you."
"What nonsense!" said Margaret brusquely. "It is not your voice alone; it is your beauty and something I cannot describe, something in your manner that is so fetching. At any rate, all the young fellows are daft about you."
"But the women don't care for me," said Iola, with the same slow, thoughtful voice. "If I wanted very much I believe I could make them. But they don't. There's Mrs. Boyle, she doesn't like me."
"Now you're talking nonsense," said Margaret impatiently. "You ought to have heard old Mrs. Fallows this evening."
"Now," continued Iola, ignoring her remark, "the women all like you, and the men, too, in a way."
"Don't talk nonsense," said Margaret impatiently. "When you're around the boys don't look at me."
"Yes, they do," said Iola, as if pondering the question. "Ben does."
Margaret laughed scornfully. "Ben likes my jelly."
"And Dick does," continued Iola, "and Barney." Here she shot a keen glance at Margaret's face. Margaret caught the glance, and, though enraged at herself, she could not prevent a warm flush spreading over her fair cheek and down her bare neck.
"Pshaw!" she cried angrily, "those boys! Of course, they like me. I've known them ever since I was a baby. Why, I used to go swimming with them in the pond. They think of me just like--well--